


What if Feels Like for a Girl

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternature Universe, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sex, dreamland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 23:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: I had several Anons, and one non-Anon, requesting a body swapping story where instead of Morris Fletcher and Mulder swapping bodies in Dreamland, it’s Mulder and Scully.  So, here’s the result.  Mulder and Scully swap bodies at a very inopportune time.  (Or very opportune, depending on how you look at it).





	What if Feels Like for a Girl

As the blinding light in the sky hovers closer, Mulder takes hold of my wrist and squeezes.  I can’t see past the light, now shining directly into my eyes so strongly that I have to put my hand in front of my face because squinting doesn’t cut it.

 

There’s a flash and a moment of equally blinding darkness where it takes a moment for my sight to recover itself.  Morris Fletcher still stands grimly before us, flanked by military personnel who look a little too trigger happy for my taste.

 

“Come on, Mulder,” I say, but the strange thing is, I don’t hear my voice, I hear his.  When I look to my right, he’s not there. When I look down, he’s still gripping my wrist, except I feel like I’m the one doing the holding.  And then I’m looking into my own startled eyes.

 

“What the fu-?” she says, right about the time I’m blurting out “oh my God.”

 

“Mulder?” I whisper.

 

“Scully?”

 

We’re both interrupted by an impatient Fletcher, barking at us that we are trespassing on government property.  She... _ he _ looks annoyed, clearly about to make an ill-advised retort and I shake my head at him.

 

“Come on,” I say, tugging on the sleeve of my own jacket.  “Let’s just go.”

 

There’s an awkward moment of confusion as we move to the car, heading to our usual sides. Mulder stumbles over his feet and then tip-toes towards the driver’s door with miniscule, shuffling steps.  

 

“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss at him.

 

“I can’t walk in these shoes!” he hisses back.

 

I don’t fit into the passenger side.  I’ve never  _ not _ fit into any space ever.  But, here I am, knees folded up and knocking into the glove compartment.  He’s not faring much better, unable to reach the pedals and clearly distressed about it.

 

“Maybe we should switch?” I suggest.

 

“Not until we get out of here and find out what the hell is going on.  How do you...Jesus, I can’t reach anything!”

 

This is surreal.  Whatever’s happening feels like a nightmare or a bad acid trip.  I keep pinching the skin on my wrist trying to snap out of whatever this  _ is _ , but it’s not working.  Out of curiosity, I reach up and touch my face, feel my fingers scrape across the five o’clock shadow dusting my cheeks.  This can’t be happening. This can’t possibly be happening.

 

*****

 

We don’t talk much on the way to our motel.  I can’t speak for Mulder...well, actually, I  _ am _ speaking for Mulder, currently, but I think it’s just too damn weird to try to talk to each other and hear someone else speaking.  It’s jarring. We do agree on one thing though, and that’s the fact that we need to get back to DC as soon as possible.

 

Actually, we agree on two things.  We get back to DC as soon a possible, and we don’t tell anyone about this until we know for sure what’s going on.  To that end, I book a red eye out of Santa Fe and Mulder hastily packs up our motel rooms. 

 

“Don’t you have any flats?” he whines, digging through my duffel bag.

 

“At home.”

 

“I feel like I’m going to break an ankle.”  He takes tentative steps across the motel room, trips twice, and nearly takes a header into the wall, but I happen to catch him.

 

“You hurt me, I’ll kill you.”

 

He stands there wobbling like a baby giraffe.  I’m afraid if I laugh at him he’ll think I’m enjoying this situation.  Trust me, I’m not. Of all the messes he’s gotten us into, this one surely takes the cake.  So, I just stand there, with my arms crossed, watching Mulder hobble back and forth until he can assure us both he isn’t going to fall on his ass in a pair of two-inch heels.

 

The flight home is the most uncomfortable flight I have ever been on.  I prefer a window seat when I fly normally, but my whole body feels too long to fit anywhere but the aisle.  Mulder, on the other hand, looks almost pleased with himself and leans back in the seat and stretches.

 

“This is great,” he says.  “I’ve never had so much room before.”

 

As soon as I get my own body back, I’m going to kill him.  Slowly. Using lots of torture.

 

Maybe it’s crankiness from the unbearable cross-country journey, or the awkwardness of being in someone else’s body, but as soon as the flight lands, I have the compulsory need to be as far away from him as possible.  It’s so hard to look at him and see myself, but to know it isn’t  _ me _ .

 

“I think we need to stick together,” he says to me as we head to the taxi line.  “Just stay by each other’s sides until we come up with a way of fixing this.”

 

There’s a moment where he starts to put his hand on the small of my back out of habit, but his usual aim is thrown off by our change in height and instead lands directly on my ass.  I jump.

 

“Mulder!”

 

“Wha-oh!  Sorry.”

 

“Be careful.”

 

“I said I was sorry.”

 

“Well how would you like it if I smacked your a...nevermind.  Have you come up with any solutions?”

 

“No.  You?”

 

“None.  I do think we need to behave as normal though.  Go about our days like nothing unusual has happened.”

 

“ _ Days _ ?”

 

“We don’t know how long this is going to last, Mulder.  Hours, days, weeks-”

 

“Don’t say months.”

 

“Years.”

 

“Years,” he barks.

 

“Keep your voice down,” I whisper, bending so our heads are closer together.  I don’t think I’ve ever had to bend down to speak to anyone in my life. Why do I have to be so short and why does he have to be so tall?  It’s a wonder neither of us has suffered a neck sprain in the past six years.

 

“How can you be so calm about this?”

 

“I am far from calm, but I’m not going to freak out in a taxi line.”

 

“Well, then what do you want to do?”

 

“It’s Saturday.  We go home. We think on it.  We come in on Monday, go over our ideas, and hopefully, one of us will have thought of something brilliant.”

 

“You want to split up?”

 

“I want to  _ think _ .  Which means, I don’t want to be distracted and I don’t want to get dragged into any other of your crazy schemes until I’ve had the chance to process this.”  There’s a taxi approaching and we’re next in line, so I do the gentlemanly thing and open the door for Mulder. He reluctantly slides into the back seat and I hand over my duffel bag to him.

 

“Oh, and Mulder,” I say, just before I close to door.  “Do not, under any circumstances, get  _ me _ into any trouble.  Just remember, I already shot you once.”

 

“Scully, I really think-”

 

I slam the door to cut him off.  I just want to get home and come up with a solution.

 

*****

 

I am well and truly exhausted by the time I get to Mulder’s apartment, my home sweet home for the next...however long it takes to fix this mess.  I want nothing more than to lay down, take a nap, and hope I’ve dreamed up something truly amazing by the time I wake up. What I didn’t count on was the fact that Mulder really and truly  _ didn’t have a bed _ .

 

All these years, I really thought he’d been joking when he said he never got around to buying a bed since he preferred his couch anyway.  He referred to his bedroom as the storage closet, and though I have glanced into it a time or two, all I saw were boxes. Surely there must be a bed hidden under there somewhere, so I thought.  Well, I was wrong.

 

I almost called Mulder to berate him right then and there, first for getting us into this mess, second for not living like a proper adult, but what would that really solve?  I’d still be without a bed for the foreseeable future. So, I did what a normal human being would do and I looked up the nearest mattress store in the Yellow Pages and drove down.  I probably spent an hour trying them all out, found one I liked, and with the swipe of Mulder’s credit card conveniently located in the wallet in my back pocket, bought him a mattress and bedframe that would be delivered bright and early tomorrow morning.  One night on the couch probably wouldn’t kill me.

 

With that done, I went to the mall and bought some sheets and pillows for the new bed and then on to the grocery store for food.  I’ve seen the science experiments growing in Mulder’s fridge and, though I’m pro-science experiment, I’m anti-eating them. It also occured to me, once I got back and fixed myself a nice salad, I had better clear out all that junk in the storage closet so the bed would have a place to go.

 

In the midst of packing boxes and cleaning, I used the time to think.  I don’t know though, something about being in Mulder’s body must have affected my brain, because the only ideas I could come up with were ones that he would’ve thrown at me.  We could see a psychic. We could hold a seance. We could try time travel.

 

By the time I’m finished turning the bedroom into an actual bedroom, it’s past dinner time, and I do the most Mulder thing I can do.  I order a pizza and sprawl out on the couch in front of a movie.

 

At this point, you’re probably wondering why I’m boring you with all this stupid, mundane crap when you must be thinking oh my  _ God _ , you’re in an entirely different body, why haven’t you inspected it from head to toe and tried out all the...new body features.  Well, look, I am curious beyond belief about what it’s really like to be a man, but I’m going to have to look Mulder in the eye again and I don’t know if I can satisfy a curiosity and still maintain a professional relationship after that.  There are boundaries.

 

But, fine, I may have changed into a nice pair of jeans and a sweater within the full length view of a mirror, not that I was looking, but I think the few glimpses I caught will allow me to keep my integrity intact.  I mean, and I did have to shower, so that was interesting. I didn’t attempt to shave, but I will compliment Mulder on the body wash he uses. It was very nice and I might try to find some with a more feminine smell when things are back to normal.

 

The only real challenge I run into is how to use the bathroom.  It’s one thing to check out Mulder’s body, but another thing to touch certain parts that need to be touched, I assume, when one uses the bathroom.  I mean, I didn’t know what would happen. Do I just stay still and hope it aims itself, or what if once I start it’s like an out of control fire hose situation?  I know it’s not very manly, but I opt to sit down to pee. Mulder doesn’t have to know.

 

*****

 

It’s late I think, at least past 10pm, and I’m dozing on the couch when my cell phone rings.  “Scully,” I mumble out of habit. “Um, I mean Mul-”

 

“Scully, it’s me.”  There’s an edge to his (my?) voice that doesn’t sound good.

 

“Mulder?”

 

“You don’t...you don’t happen to feel like you’re dying, do you?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Oh God,” he moans.  “Scully...something’s wrong.”

 

“Mulder?”

 

“Something is really, really wrong.”

 

“Mulder, I’ll be right there.  Don’t move.”

 

I’m off the couch in an instant, thankful for my suddenly longer legs that get me out of the apartment and down the block to Mulder’s car in what feels like two minutes flat.  I’m also grateful that I gave him a key a few years back and I use it to enter my apartment about fifteen minutes later. All the lights are off. I call out to him and he answers from the bedroom.

 

I find him curled up on the bed, still wearing the same pantsuit I threw on before accompanying him on that wild goose chase to New Mexico.  There’s just enough light filtering in from the street lamps outside to highlight the anguish on his face. Let me tell you, it’s a little disconcerting to see yourself in pain.  I crawl onto the bed and put my hand on his forehead, but he’s cool as a cucumber.

 

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

 

“You don’t feel it?” he answers, lifting his eyes up to me.

 

“Feel what, Mulder?”

 

He bursts into tears and rolls away from me.  “Why didn’t you tell me!” 

 

“Tell you what?”

 

“I thought it must be an effect of whatever this thing is that’s going on, but if it’s just me and it’s not you, then it can’t be and it hurts so much.  Scully, why didn’t you tell me the cancer was back?”

 

“What?”  If I wasn’t panicked before, I certainly am now.  “What the hell are you talking about, Mulder?”

 

“Your body is dying, I can feel it.  I’m  _ dying _ .”

 

“What hurts?”

 

“Everything!  Everything, God, my head is...and there’s this pain in my back - I think it’s the kidneys.  Scully, I think your kidneys are going to explode. And then the light was too bright and I feel sick and then like right here…”  He presses a hand to his hip, a little lower and off center from his abdomen. “It’s like...I don’t even know. Something is happening right there, something bad.”

 

It dawns on my almost immediately and I do some quick math and think about the date.  If it wasn’t so tragic, I’d laugh.

 

“Mulder, you’re not dying.”

 

“Do you think it’s appendicitis?”

 

“It’s not appendicitis either.  You’re PMSing.”

 

“I’m  _ what _ ?”

 

“You’ll be starting your period tomorrow.”

 

There’s a monumental silence that follows as he stares at me, silent tears trickling down his cheeks.  And then he gasps loudly and starts weeping.

 

“Why am I crying!” he chokes out.

 

“Hormones.”

 

“What am I going to do?”

 

I try not to roll my eyes.  “You’re going to do what every woman since the dawn of time has done, you’re just going to deal with it.”

 

“But, I have no idea what to do with...the things and the...you know…”

 

Yes, I do know.  And a few moments ago I’ll admit I was feeling a little smug about Mulder having to experience what it’s really like to be a woman, but he’s got to experience that in my body, which means…hoo boy.  And of course he’s not going to know how to handle the finer details of a menstrual cycle, which means it’s going to be up to me to show him. What other alternative is there?

 

I’m never going to New Mexico with him again.  In fact, I’m never going anywhere with him again.  This is all his fault. If not for his stupid, wild goose chase, Mulder wouldn’t have cramps and I wouldn’t be on the verge of showing him how to use a tampon.  Jesus, but there’s another even more embarrassing conversation we’re going to have to have in a minute and it’s going to make the rest of it seem like a picnic.

 

“Alright, Mulder, I have medication I’m going to get for you,” I tell him.  “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Okay.”  He wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands and I slip off the bed.

 

I grab the prescription bottle from the medicine cabinet and fill the water glass on my sink.  I consider for a moment just leaving it as this - giving him the pills and walking away - but, I can see him behind me in the mirror, doubled up on the bed, probably praying for swift and sweet relief and I know all too well what it’s like and how it feels to just want someone, anyone to come take care of me when it’s as bad as this.  So, I have to bite the bullet and get him through this the best that I can because in a way, I’m doing this for myself.

 

“Take these,” I say, handing him two pills and the glass of water when I return to the bedroom.  He sits up, just enough to swallow them down and grimaces as he tries to lay down again onto his back.  I put the bill bottle and the glass on the nightstand and stare at the top drawer for a few moments before I sit beside him.

 

“Thank you,” he whispers, shutting his eyes.  That’s good. It might be easier to talk to him if he’s not looking at me.

 

“Mulder…”

 

He sort of grunts-slash-whimpers in response.  I reach over to gently untuck his shirt from his slacks.  “Why haven’t you changed?” I ask. “I’ve-you’ve been in this suit for two days.”

 

“I didn’t feel right about it.”

 

I unbutton the top button on the slacks and rest my hand low on the bare skin of his abdomen.  I press down, slowly increasing the pressure.

 

“Oh,” he breathes with a sigh.  “Your hand is warm. Oh, that’s nice.”

 

“I know.”

 

He puts his hand on my wrist like he’s afraid I’ll move away.

 

“You need to get undressed,” I whisper to him, making a gentle circular motion with my hand.  “You need to get more comfortable.”

 

He doesn’t move, although he gives a tiny shake of his head and his brow furrows slightly.  He grips my wrist a little harder. “I’m good here.”

 

“Come on,” I tease.  “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

 

“It isn’t right.”

 

“You have my permission, Mulder, if that’s what you need so we can deal with this.”

 

It’s an interesting thing to watch Mulder’s expressions of struggle play out on my face.  I can see him even if I’m looking into my own eyes. It’s bizarre. But, then again, I’ve always said I could read his face as easily as I read my own.  I just never imagined for it to be so literal.

 

“How about this?” I say.  “You’re the only one that can take care of my body right now and I need you to do what I ask of you because you’ll get sick if you don’t.  I trust you.”

 

That seems to do the trick.  He nods a little, but still clutches my wrist.

 

“I was wrong when I said we should go about our days like everything is fine.  You were right, we need to stick together on this, so I’m not going anywhere. I’ll get you through this, I promise.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“What’s going to happen right now is, I’m going to go into the other room.  You’re going to get undressed. You’re going to open the top drawer of my nightstand and you’re going to take out the blue velvet drawstring bag.”  I pause. “Um, I’m sure you’ll figure it out from there. And when you’re done, take a nice hot bath and go to bed. As for tomorrow...we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Mulder stutters, taking a vice-grip on my arm.  “Are you asking...no. No, no, no.”

 

“It’s okay.  You just need to do this and...it helps.  I promise.”

 

“No way.  For one thing I’m not...and for another it’s...no, Scully, I can’t.”

 

“Listen, the medication alone isn’t going to solve everything.  I’ve learned over the course of dealing with this for the last 20 years, so you’re going to have to true me.”

 

“I do trust you, Scully, but I’m not...I’m not  _ you _ .”

 

“You do know how to bring a woman to or-”

 

“Yes!  Yes, but that’s different.  And it’s...it’s what you said before, this is  _ your _ body.”

 

“Which you’re currently occupying.  If you think I’m not dying a little of mortification right now that I have to explain all of this to you right now, you’d be wrong.  But, I’m telling you, from personal experience, that an orgasm increases the blood flow to the uterus and contracts the muscles, which will ease the cramps you’re having now.  It also releases dopamine and endorphins, which are going to make the migraine you’ve got building up to go away and will let you sleep. So, there’s a really nice, really expensive, very trustworthy vibrator in that drawer and if you just...tonight is going to be a lot easier for you to handle if you do what I tell you to.”

 

“No.”

 

“Mulder!”  God, but his stubbornness is exasperating.

 

“You do it.”

 

“I  _ can’t _ do it.  You’re me and I’m you.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Exactly, so-”

 

“ _ You _ know what to do.   _ You _ do the thing with the...thing.  That way you’re the one taking care of things.”

 

Oh my God.  “Well, that’s not really…”

 

“See.  You can’t tell me it’s okay for me, but not for you, if your argument is you’re me and I’m you.”

 

“I mean, that is the argument, but then if I’m involved, it would really be you that’s involved because I’m  _ you _ and you’re  _ me _ .”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense, it’s the exact same argument for why you should versus why you shouldn’t.”

 

“Well, I’m sorry, this is the first time I’ve been in someone else’s body and I don’t really know what’s okay and what isn’t!”

 

“Scully, I can definitely tell you it’s not okay to ask me to masterbate in your stead because I don’t even think it would technically count as masturbation since I’m not you.  So, if you want this body to get off, you’re going to have to be the one to get it off because it’s  _ your _ body, not mine.”

 

I realize this argument has gotten a little out of hand and though we’re not quite shouting, it’s louder than it probably should be.  I take it back down to a decent level. “Alright,” I say. “I see your point.”

 

“Good.  So, I’ll go ahead and take that hot bath if you get a swimsuit for me and as for-”

 

“I mean, alright, Mulder.”  I know this is insane, but I really do see his point.  I also know that if he’s up all night in pain, if he doesn’t get any sleep, if he can’t shake that headache or the cramps, it’s only going to get worse from here.  He’s leaving me no choice.

 

“You mean...wait, I don’t know if…”

 

“We both agree.  It’s my body, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay.”  First thing’s first, we need to get him undressed.  Maybe what I need to do is stop thinking about him as Mulder, but as me.  We need to get  _ me _ undressed.  “Sit up,” I say.

 

He does as I ask with quite a bit of hesitation and doesn’t look at me.  But then, he lifts his eyes and I sit back as the air leaves my lungs. He’s reclined slightly, hands pressed back behind his hips, a little flushed, hair mussed, smudges of mascara under his eyes, and I have this moment of complete awe.  He looks... _ I _ look beautiful.  It tightens my chest and sends a flutter to my gut.

 

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

 

Christ, Mulder, I think.  I want you to stop looking at me like that.  There’s fear there, but also trust, and expectation, like I have all the answers to all the questions in the world.  It’s making me feel flustered and incompetent. Is this why Mulder always stutters when we argue?

 

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks in embarrassment.  

 

“You are, you know.  I mean, you say that like you have no idea.”

 

“Okay, maybe this really wasn’t-”

 

“Scully.”  He puts his hand on my cheek and it feels soft and delicate, but it feels like Mulder.

 

“Take your shirt off.”

 

His hand slides away slowly and then he pulls at his shirt from the back of the neck, typical man.  I stop him before he can stretch it out and break any threads in the collar. I happen to really like that shirt.  I take it up from the bottom and he lifts his arms to help draw it off. He blinks a few times. I have to lean into him to reach around and unhook his bra.  Surprisingly, I fumble slightly, unaccustomed to the length of my own fingers.

 

“You smell like me,” he says, and I can feel his breath against my neck.  It raises the hairs on my arms and stirs my groin. Oh God.

 

“I had a shower,” I answer, pulling back.

 

“Oh yeah?  How did that go?”

 

“Nothing to say about it.”

 

“Did you look?”

 

“Look at what?”

 

“It’s okay if you did.”

 

“Mulder, I’m a doctor.”

 

“Hm.”  He studies my face for a moment and then lays back and closes his eyes.

 

I lay down as well, on my side, propped up on an elbow, and put my hand on his chest, palm between his breasts and fingers splayed.   _ M _ y chest, I remember.   _ My _ breasts.  I start with a soft caress, knowing how sensitive and achy my chest would be right now.

 

“I should tell you,” he says, cracking one eye open a little and shifting his gaze down to my waist.  “Sometimes...he’s got a mind of his own. I don’t know if anything will happen, but right now my hand is on a beautiful woman’s breast, so you might want to start thinking of Santa Claus.”

 

“Santa Claus?”

 

“I don’t know why, but it helps.

 

“Okay, thanks for the warning.”

 

He closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath.  My hand rises and falls with his chest and I pick up where I left off, this time slowly sliding the back of my hand around the curve of his right breast.  His mouth opens a little and he takes another deep breath. I take my thumb and circle over and around the nipple, gentle enough so that it’s hardly a touch at all.  He bites into his bottom lip and scratches at the bedclothes. 

 

It feels like there’s electricity in the room, humming between our bodies.  I’ll blame it on the charge and say that it’s what compels me to lean over and kiss his neck.  I know the spot to hit, just below the ear and at the edge of the hairline. For whatever reason, it’s always made me light up like a Christmas tree.  He whimpers, and one knee bends up ever so slightly and then slides back down, but his brow furrows like he’s in pain.

 

“Mulder?”

 

“Yeah?” he squeaks, and then clears his throat.  “Yes?”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

It takes a few seconds to answer and he shifts his hips.  “Um, I think so.”

 

“Open your eyes for me.”

 

He blinks rapidly and then holds his eyes open to mine.  They’re wide and dark, but when I sweep the back of my hand down along his side, they droop almost sleepily.  It’s encouraging and I move on, bending my neck to place my lips against the top swell of his breast, with gentle suction, just how I like it.  His knee slides up again, higher this time, and bumps the side of my hip. Without thinking, I catch his leg, hand wrapped around the inner thigh, and hold it there, slightly open, as I work my mouth down and across his chest.

 

He breathes my name and his fingers suddenly slide into my hair, first one hand and then the other.  Damn, but it feels good. I’ve always loved the soothing act of having my hair washed at a salon, but it’s incomparable to having nails scratching at your scalp and thumbs skimming your nape.  It’s like I can feel it in the roots of my hair down to my toes.

 

Before I know it, I’m looming over him like it’s a natural move to make.  I know at this stage when I’m with a man, I’d be pulling him into that perfect cradle between my thighs where they fit so nicely, but the compulsion for me right now is to slide into that space myself.  As I sink down, I’m conscious of what the weight of a man is like, pressing you down, making you feel more delicate than you are at times. And I’m conscious of just how much larger I feel. The body under mine,  _ my _ body, feels vulnerable, and I have the urge to protect it, to treat it carefully, and by extension, to protect Mulder, treat him carefully as well.

 

“Is this alright?” I ask.

 

“Mmhm,” he says, shifting beneath me.  His bent legs are pressed to my hips and his hands move to my shoulders and then I begin to waver.

 

I’ll be completely honest here, I have no idea what I’m doing.  I don’t engage in any foreplay when I’m by myself, mostly because I don’t need to, but even if I know the ins and outs of my body, I don’t know what it feels like for Mulder right now.  I know what I’m feeling like in his body, and all the images of a fat, bearded man in a red suit that I’m trying to conjure up are no match for what’s happening to me.

 

It’s insane, I know, but this has got to be the single most erotic thing that’s ever happened in my life.  And I also I know that the brain is a powerful organ, but it’s a mind-bending concept to be able to touch yourself with someone else’s hands and not recognize your own body.  As it happened, I had to wonder, has my breast always felt this soft and heavy, or is that just how it feels in Mulder’s hand? Has my abdomen always felt so smooth? Has my hip always curved so invitingly?

 

And I’ll be damned if the ache of arousal is any different now than when I’m in my own body.  The pressure is the same, if not a little lower in the pelvis. The heavy, swollen feeling between my legs is the same, but with a different consequence.  And yet, I’m still overwhelmed with the urge to grind my hips into the bed, just as I would if I was myself.

 

I make a move to back up just a little lower, and oh my god, the friction and the pressure is both delicious and unbearable.  I reflexively groan a little and Mulder opens his eyes.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

 

“Fine,” I breathe, recognizing the hoarseness in my voice as the same one I’d encountered on occasion from knocking on our connecting motel doors and being told ‘just a minute.’

 

I move up and off of Mulder to sit back on my heels.  His eyes travel down to my lap and back up again when I unzip his pants.  The pressure against my jeans is tipping past the border of pleasurable to painful.   _ ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house… _

 

I grit my teeth, wiggling his pants off his hips and drawing them down his legs.  I notice with a little bit of relief that even if he couldn’t manage to get undressed, he did at least remove my socks and shoes.  All that he’s wearing now is navy blue panties, not the sexiest pair I own, but it could be worse.

 

Faced with this moment though, this turning point, I have to pause.  He’s aroused, I can see it and I can smell it. I’m aroused, which is becoming more and more painfully obvious with each passing second.  So, what do we do about it? Should we keep running from what I’m fairly certain we’ve both wanted for quite some time, or do we give in and experience something no one else on this planet has likely experienced before?  Jump or turn back?

 

“Mulder, I...I asked you to take care of my body for me and I never...I should’ve asked if you want me to do the same.”

 

“You looked, didn’t you?”

 

“Of course I looked.”

 

“Did you like what you saw?”

 

“I want this.  I want this if you want this, but I need your help.”

 

“You need a hand?”  He smirks and reaches for the fly of my jeans.

 

“I want you to show me what you like and I want you to tell me how it feels for you.”

 

“Well, the first part’s easy.  I like everything.” He sits up and pushes my open jeans off my hips, a little rougher than I would have, and takes the boxers down with it.  Without any hesitance, he wraps a hand around my shaft, making a tight fist, and tugs up once, leading with the thumb to circle the head lightly.

 

“Holy mother of fuck,” I groan.  His grip remains firm and his rhythm is steady.  He twists his wrist just a little with every upwards  jerk of his hand. It’s not the slow climb towards ecstasy I’m used to.  There’s an immediate gratification that comes with it, but also no satisfaction.  I want more, but it’s also too much. “Sss...stop…” I pant.

 

He releases me and I swear all the air leaves my lungs with a whoosh.  I already want the feeling back. Instead, I lean over and kiss him. It’s not what I expect it to be and I’ll admit, I’m a little letdown, but I suppose that’s only because I’ve fantasized about being able to run my tongue over that pouty lower lip of his.  We both pull away with as though the disappointment is mutual.

 

I’m overwhelmed by a feeling of bashfulness and as I look down and sit back, suddenly remember that I’m still fully clothed.  Nervously, I take off my shirt and then I have to lay down to kick my shoes and pants off. And then I just lie there, fully naked, staring at the shadows on the ceiling.

 

“Hey,” Mulder says, laying down beside me putting his chin on my shoulder.  “We don’t have to do this.”

 

“I know we don’t.  I want to though, it’s just…”

 

He takes my hand, twines our fingers together and then brings them to his chest.  I can feel the swift thump of his heart which matches the beat of my own, quick and strong.  I roll towards him so we’re face to face, nose to nose. He leans his forehead against mine.

 

“I wouldn’t do this with anyone but you,” I say.

 

“Me either.”  He let’s go of my hand and reaches down to slide the panties off.  “Is it weird that I keep thinking how much I want you inside me right now?”

 

I shake my head.  “Not unless it’s weird that I keep thinking about how much I want to be inside you.”

 

“I want to know what it’s like to feel what you feel.”

 

“I do too.”

 

“How do you want to do this?”

 

“How about just like this?”

 

“Okay.”

 

But, neither of us really know how to start.  We make some abbreviated movements towards bringing our bodies together, but fall short.  Finally, I take his leg and pull it over my hip. I don’t know if I want to watch his face for this moment, or if I want to watch us.  Ultimately, I settle on us and leave it up to Mulder to guide me inside. 

 

We don’t magically come together like I’d imagined.  There’s fumbling and just as I feel myself start to ease into his warm, wet folds, he let’s go and I slip away.  He grips my shoulders, breathing hard, and I reach up to push away the hair that’s fallen in front of his face.

 

“You okay?” I ask.

 

“It’s different.  Stings a little. I don’t want...I don’t want to hurt you somehow.”

 

“It’s just for a moment, I promise.  You won’t hurt me. But, if it’s too much, or too soon, we can slow down.”

 

“What if I’m not ready?  How would I know?”

 

At first I think he means emotionally, but it’s the follow up question that changes things.  And since he has no first-hand experience, that’s true, how would he know? I reach down between his legs and dip my middle finger inside.  He tenses and I can feel the resistance of his body.

 

“Relax,” I whisper to him.

 

“I’m trying.”

 

I understand his nervousness.  I think back over my first few times during sex, when it felt like an invasion of my body, no matter how much I wanted it.  I adjust my hand, pull my finger out slowly just a little, and then slide back in, curling it as I do. I must admit, having longer fingers makes hitting my target a lot easier.  His mouth drops open with a sharp gasp and his hips push forward into mine.

 

“Good?” I ask.

 

“Uh huh.”

 

I do a bit of lazy exploration with my thumb, skimming indirectly over the sensitive little bud that’s going to ultimately make Mulder’s toes curl, before I bring it out of hiding.  He moans and pulls my hip closer with his thigh.

 

“You have to tell me,” I say. 

 

“It’s so fleeting.  I don’t know.”

 

I slow down and make exaggerated circles with my thumb, increasing the pressure and tightness of the motion little by little.  I know when I’ve got it just right when his hips roll forward, but then he jerks back and my hand slips free.

 

“Oh, that was…” his breath hitches.

 

“It’s okay.  Move with it, not away from it.”

 

We start over from the beginning, but quickly find our way back to before.  My hand cramps a lot quicker than usual, but quitting isn’t an option. Fortunately, he’s learned quickly how to match the rhythm of my hand with his hips.  There’s just one more thing I think he needs for me to get him there.

 

“I want you to try to squeeze my finger,” I say.

 

“What?” he breathes.

 

“Think about those muscles down there, and try to squeeze.”

 

His inner thighs tighten against my hand.

 

“Not the legs.  Inside. You can do it, you just have to concentrate on it.”

 

A determined look comes over his face and I slow just enough to make him want it that much more.  “Oh, don’t stop,” he says, just as I feel the slightest bit of pressure against my finger.

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.  Oh, Scully, that’s...oh…”

 

He tenses and rocks forward.  His nails dig into my shoulder and it sends a jolt of desire straight down my own body.  The heavy ache I felt earlier is becoming tight and painful again. I slip my hand out of Mulder and wrap it around my shaft, just as he’d done earlier.  There is a need in my gut like being thirsty with a glass of water just out of reach.

 

“I need you,” I murmur.  “Mulder, please.”

 

“I need you too.”

 

With less fumbling this time around, I manage to push guide myself inside.  And oh my god, to be enveloped by the heat and the wetness and the tight grip of his body is just...oh my god.  But, Mulder is whimpering, making a short little gasps in the back of his throat and I stop halfway in and hold onto him.

 

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

 

“Nothing,” he breathes.  “Nothing, this is just...it feels so...it’s so different.”

 

“You feel amazing.”

 

“More.  I want more.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“All of it. I want to feel all of you.  Please.”

 

I push deeper, until our hips meet, and then I stop and relish the moment.  Our bellies press together, our thighs are twined, our chests expand together with every breath and I actually don’t know where I start and end any longer.  When I move, he moves. When I put my arm around him, he puts his arm around me.

 

The pleasure sensation is different, more acute, more like tingling pressure.  It drives my hips forward. The rapid beat of my heart matches the quick pulse between my legs.  Blood rushes through my veins, heats my chest, swells in my groin. I have the urge to move faster, but this position has me restrained.

 

I stop, only long enough to roll Mulder onto his back and press up on my knees.  The new position forces Mulder’s legs wide apart and I take his right leg and drape it over my shoulder.  He grips my ass impatiently and I slam my hips back into his, grinding down a little with my public bone this time.

 

“Oh my god,” he cries out.  At least, that’s what I think he says.  It’s one long exhale and a groan, but that’s what it sounds like.

 

I have to agree though.  Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.  Everything below my pelvis starts to tighten.  This must be it. I can feel the release is imminent.  And Mulder’s got that pinched-brow expression of deep concentration again.  I can feel him. I can feel him pulling me deeper, squeezing me tighter, and my eyes start to roll back in my head.

 

“Oh god, oh god.”  I’m not sure who yells it, but I know I feel like a bottle of champagne that’s just been uncorked.  All the pressure that’s been rising up explodes into stars behind my eyes. The force of it is so strong that I can’t breathe.  I can only groan and quiver. Beneath me, Mulder is also moaning softly. The heel of his left foot digs softly into my ass.

 

I’m on the verge of collapse and muster up enough strength to pull his leg from my shoulder and turn onto my side.  I want to weep when I feel our bodies disconnect. I reach for him just as he reaches for me and we twine together again, a lot stickier and sweatier than before.

 

“Wow,” he says.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I can’t move.”

 

“Me neither.”

 

“You were right about the orgasm thing though.  It’s like the cramps never happened.”

 

I chuckle a little.  “That’s good.”

 

“And, like, Scully...twice?  In a row? It’s not even like a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am kind of way either, those are just...wow.”

 

“It’s not always like that.”

 

“Really?”

 

“No.”

 

“Huh.”  He stares up at the ceiling and considers this.  “Does that mean I should be flattered, or should  _ you _ ?”

 

I laugh and shrug a little.  Mulder presses his cheek to my arm and sighs.  Laying here like this doesn’t feel that strange at all.

 

“Do I still need that hot bath?” he asks.

 

“You should.  Even if it’s just to clean up.”

 

“You want to join me?”

 

“Yeah.  Sure. I might need a minute.”

 

“Should’ve warned you.  Sex makes me sleepy.”

 

“Not me.”  I yawn.

 

“I’ll go get the bath ready.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Scully, about tomorrow.”

 

“Heating pad, Advil, and you’ll get to learn how to use a tampon.  Wait, there was a short in the wire of my heating pad. I had to throw it out.  We’ll think of something.”

 

“Yes, I can’t wait, it’s going to be great.”

 

I chuckle again, this time with my face pressed to the mattress and my eyes closed.

 

“But,” he says.  “What I mean is, what happens tomorrow?  Where do we go from here?”

 

“First we figure out how to get things back to normal.  And then...and then we’ll see.”

 

“Okay, I’ll go run the bath.”

 

“Okay.”

 

*****

 

I wake up with the sun on my cheek, a soreness in my thighs, and a twinge in my abdomen.  I pick my head up and turn it to the other side. The bed is empty.

 

“Mulder?”  I sit up and look at my hands.   _ My _ hands.  I’m wearing a pair of flannel pajamas I don’t remember putting on.

 

I get out of bed and walk through my empty apartment.  Something feels off. I feel like I’m in a dream or I’ve just woken from one.  And where is Mulder? But, wait, why would Mulder be here?

 

I return to the bedroom and stare at my bed.  I can feel flashes of my dream or a memory bubbling up to the forefront of my mind, but they’re also not quite clear.  I’m making love with Mulder, but my body isn’t my own. I  _ am _ Mulder.  My cheeks flush.  How strange.

 

My thighs though.  They’re sore and ache in only the way my thighs will ache after a night of passion.  Why would I wake up with Mulder’s name on my lips? I pick up the pillow next to mine.  It smells like him. It smells like  _ us _ .

 

I find my cell phone in my duffle bag by the front door.  I remember packing a bag to go to New Mexico with Mulder, but almost nothing after that.  I call his cell, pacing in front of my table as it rings.

 

“Mulder,” he answers.

 

“Mulder, it’s me.”

 

“Hey, Scully.”

 

“Mulder, were you…?”

 

“Was I what?”

 

How do I ask him if he was here last night?  How do I ask him if this blurry image of the two of us in my head is real?  And if it is, well why did he leave? It can’t be real. I’m just being ridiculous.

 

“Nevermind,” I say.  “I think I had a weird dream or something.”

 

“Hang on, Scully, someone’s at the door.”  I hear him open his door on the other end of the phone and a distant conversation.  “A bed? I didn’t order a bed.”

 

I gasp and hang up.   _ I _ ordered the bed.  I remember. Oh my god.

 

*****

 

An hour later, Mulder shows up at my door and I open it, but I don’t move back to let him in.  He sighs and leans his head against the jamb and then holds a gift bag out to me.

 

“What’s this?” I ask.

 

“It’s a heating pad.”

 

“Why did you leave?”

 

“Can I come in?”

 

I back up and let him through.  He’s wearing what I wore yesterday, what he must have picked up off my bedroom floor this morning before he walked out.

 

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

 

“I want to know why you left.”

 

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.  “When I woke up this morning, I was a little disoriented.  I didn’t know where I was or what happened. I thought at first that I might have been drugged - that we may have been drugged.”

 

“And then?”

 

“And then things started coming back to me in pieces.  It was like deja vu at first, but then I remembered the lights in the sky and you being me and...the rest of it.  And I remembered you telling me that you didn’t know what would happen after things were back to normal, and I was afraid that you would wake up and be embarrassed or regret what...or that you would shut me out and we’d never acknowledge it or speak of it again.”

 

“I’m sorry you felt that way.”

 

“I don’t remember everything.  There’s parts that are clear and parts that aren’t.  I do know that, for me, it was pretty incredible.”

 

“It was for me too.”

 

“Well, yeah.”  He grins. “The only time I crash hard like that is when the sex is really good.  I mean, like  _ really _ really good.  So…”

 

I feel my cheeks get hot and I look down at the gift bag in my hands.  Some men bring women flowers. Mulder brings me a heating pad.

 

“You bought me a bed, huh?” he says.

 

I huff at my feet and nod slightly.  He shuffles closer, takes the bag out of my hands and puts it on the table.  I pluck at the blanket hanging off the back of the couch.

 

“Guess I was past due,” he says.  “There is one thing I think we need to settle though.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

He cups my face and leans down.  This time, I get to taste that bottom lip of his that I’ve always wanted.  It’s even better than I dreamed.

 

The End


End file.
